


What Do You Go Home To?

by eleanor_lavish



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Drugged Sex, Knifeplay, M/M, Non Consensual, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Outdoor Sex, Possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-18
Updated: 2013-04-18
Packaged: 2017-12-08 20:58:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleanor_lavish/pseuds/eleanor_lavish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You are a warrior, but not a lover,” Floki says, and he can feel the caress of his beloved in the wind across his skin. “You have never loved the gods,” he says, pulling the dagger back and replacing it with his own hand, strong and pale against Rollo’s throat, “but perhaps it is because they have never shown you their love.”</i>
</p><p> </p><p>[Please heed warnings above!]</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Do You Go Home To?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Olivia_Circe and Mistresscurvy for their handholding and enthusiasm - best betas in the world.
> 
> Title from the song of the same name by Explosions in the Sky.

They have always come for Floki, in the night, when his dreams burn brighter than any fire. They whisper jokes in his ears, caress his body with their strong hands, tell him they love him, they cherish him, they have chosen him. Chosen him to sing their praises, chosen him to be their vessel, to speak their truth. Thor and Frejya, Hel, and his most-beloved Loki. They are as real to him as his own home, as his sword, as the songs of the trees outside his door.

“Kneel,” Floki says, and he knows Rollo would not do it if Floki was not possessed, knows Rollo does not kneel even for his brother. But Floki has him caught in a web, has fed him mead laced with bitter herbs, has led him by Loki’s strong hand to his sacred place, and they are alone now, in Floki’s woods - Rollo and Floki, and the gods. “Kneel and ask their forgiveness,” he says again in a voice not his own, an angry rumble that shimmers in the air between them. Rollo kneels, pale as a ghost.

“I did not mean -” he says, and Floki backhands him across his scarred cheek.

“The gods do not care what you _mean_ ,” he says, reaching toward him, petting Rollo’s hair with a giggle as Rollo tenses for another blow. “They care what you _do_. And you,” he says, squatting in front of Rollo so they are eye to eye; Rollo’s blue eyes swim with drink and drug, “you gave yourself to their god. You washed away their honor in a dirty river. You called yourself a Christian as though they would not hear.” He spits on the ground and Rollo winces. He runs his hand up Rollo’s arm, presses his thumb to the hollow of Rollo’s throat. Rollo shivers.

“It was a joke,” he says, whining like a child, and Floki can feel the gust of air as the gods urge him to strike Rollo down, to spill his blood. It is Loki who stops his hand, Loki who gives him another way. He can feel the icy power of Loki pour up from the ground into his body, through his toes, around his heart, to the tips of his hair. Floki tosses his head back, mouth open wide in joy as the power overtakes him. 

“Floki?” Rollo asks, his voice suddenly frightened, and when Floki looks back at him, he knows that Loki’s eyes are the ones Rollo sees. “No,” Rollo says, his pulse speeding up under Floki’s palm. “Floki, no, no -”

“You know that is not my name,” the god says, and Floki feels the world singing all around him - _Chosen, chosen, you are chosen _.__

__Fear pours off of Rollo in waves. “Sorry, I am sorry, I never meant to dishonor you,” he says, his voice a hoarse whisper. “ _Loki_.” Floki brushes a tear from his cheek and smiles._ _

__“Do you love me?” he says, head tilting to one side._ _

__“I do,” Rollo whispers._ _

__“What would you give, to prove it,” he asks, and Rollo grabs at his hands, pulls them close to kiss._ _

__“Anything, anything,” he promises. The heat of his tears are scalding on Floki’s god-cooled skin._ _

__“Would you give yourself?” The god moves through Floki like a dream, his fingers like icicles, his skin like painted glass. “Would you sacrifice yourself for me? To prove your love?”_ _

__“I would,” Rollo says, and Loki looks deep into his eyes._ _

__“I do not know if I believe you,” he says, frank and smiling. His voice drops to a whisper, “but I know how to make you believe in me again.” The laces of Rollo’s tunic rip as easily as spiderwebs when Floki pulls on them and yanks it from his shoulders, baring his skin from the waist up, all corded muscles and dark hair. Rollo’s body is so tense he trembles, and Floki smiles. “You are afraid,” he says and Rollo swallows hard but does not acknowledge his fear. He is trained well as a warrior, and faces Floki now as he does a man on the battlefield, his fear swallowed by his pride._ _

__“I do not fear death,” he says. “I welcome my journey to Valhalla.”_ _

__“And you think that is where you will go?” All around him Loki’s amusement shakes the leaves on their branches. Floki giggles. “No, death is not your fate today, boy.” Rollo glares at him._ _

__“I am a warrior of the North, not a child,” he spits. “And if the gods cannot take a fucking _joke_ -” He stops as Floki’s dagger appears suddenly at Rollo’s throat. For a moment it is Loki’s hand on the blade, shimmering and pale, but when he blinks, there again is the dirt under Floki’s fingernails._ _

__“You are a warrior, but not a lover,” Floki says, and he can feel the caress of his beloved in the wind across his skin. “You have never loved the gods,” he says, pulling the dagger back and replacing it with his own hand, strong and pale against Rollo’s throat, “but perhaps it is because they have never shown you their love.”_ _

__Rollo laughs, hoarse and rough. “The gods care for me less than the fish of the rivers. Less than the insects of summer.”_ _

__“You are the dimmer star, always disappearing behind the brightness of your brother.”_ _

__“They have given me _nothing_ ,” Rollo snarls, and Floki grabs the hair at the back of his head and yanks hard enough that his head is pulled back so he is looking straight up, to the stars._ _

__“They will give you something tonight,” Floki whispers, a dark promise. It takes only a moment to yank Rollo flat onto his back, to straddle his thighs and slide his dagger through the laces of his pants. Rollo struggles, but Floki presses the dagger flat against Rollo’s groin, close enough to nick his manhood, now laying sweetly in the crease of his hip. Rollo freezes. “Now, you shall submit and I shall play very nicely with you,” Floki’s other hand wraps around Rollo’s cock and tugs just hard enough that Rollo gasps. “Or we can do it the other way.”_ _

__“Please,” Rollo pleads, and Floki smiles and tugs again, letting the hand with the blade fall away from Rollo’s body._ _

__“You are strong,” Floki says, his hand moving in sure strokes, his other palm ghosting over Rollo’s belly, up to his dark nipples. “The gods see how strong your body is, how well you use it as a weapon.”_ _

__“It is all I know,” Rollo’s voice is like a gust of wind. His cock grows in Floki’s hand._ _

__Floki hums. “You do not know how it feels to be chosen,” he says. _Not like I am, chosen, sacred_. “Do you wish to feel that? To feel the gods inside of you?” He leans down to bite at Rollo’s skin, at the muscle just below his rabbiting heart. Rollo bucks up and Floki laughs against his skin. _ _

__“Floki, please,” he pleads again, and Floki leans over him so they are eye to eye._ _

__“Floki is not the one you need to beg, Rollo,” he says, smiling, and Rollo’s hips stutter, his cock leaking now. “Go on, try again.”_ _

__“Loki,” Rollo gasps. “Loki, please, I love you, please -” Floki cuts him off with a bruising kiss, all of Loki’s wild power whipping around him, through him, joyous and mocking in turn. Rollo moans, brings his hands up to clench at Floki’s shoulders, and Floki can taste the copper tang of blood as he bites down on Rollo’s plush lip._ _

__“Do you feel it?” Floki asks, pressing their foreheads together as he unlaces his pants, shimmies them down his hips just enough to pull his cock free. He’s been hard since this began, hard since the moment he felt his beloved move inside of him. It’s the most beautiful, most terrifying thing Floki knows, and he wants Rollo to know it too. Wants Rollo to renounce all gods but theirs, to see the folly of his ways, to understand that the gods are his fate, Floki’s fate, are the the fate of the whole wide world._ _

__“I feel hot and cold together,” Rollo gasps._ _

__“A hot hand on your cock,” Floki sing-songs, giddy, “a cold hand around your heart.”_ _

__“Yes.”_ _

__“You will give yourself to him?” Floki coos._ _

__“Yes, _yes_ ,” Rollo replies, arching against Floki, wanton. _ _

__Rollo’s bulk is like a feather in his hands as Floki flips him, presses his pretty face to the dirt. Floki’s cock is like the rest of him, lean and lithe and long, long, long, and as he presses into Rollo, Rollo lets out a moan that comes from deep within him, from the darkest part of him. Floki knows that sound, has had it pressed from his lungs under his beloved’s cruel hands. But Loki is kind tonight, and Floki slows until Rollo’s body is no longer bowstring taut, until Floki can feel him opening to the gods, accepting of his fate, of his gift. “Good, good,” he murmurs, pressing his face to the hot skin between Rollo’s shoulderblades. “You are ours, you belong to us.”_ _

__“Floki,” Rollo sobs, and Floki’s hand wriggles beneath him, grasps him again, hard enough that Rollo cries out and writhes under him, caught between pleasure and pain, the heat of Floki’s hand and the cold of the earth, caught between worlds. Floki’s own pleasure builds as he fucks into Rollo deeply, breathing in the scents of sweat and dirt. There is power in him that he can barely contain most days, and tonight he lets it flow into Rollo, lets Loki use him as a vessel, lets Loki claim them both. Rollo shakes from it, from the agony and the joy of it, and Floki can feel his seed spill over his fingers, seeping in the earth, an offering of penance and of love._ _

__Floki tips his head back and looks to the sky as his release overtakes him; he swears he can see the stars flash brighter in its wake._ _

__When he comes back to himself, Floki’s skin is chilled save for where it touches Rollo. Rollo burns hot, his clothes a ragged mess, his skin rubbed raw with dirt. Floki’s seed drips lazily down between his thighs. He rests his face against Rollo’s broad back and sighs._ _

__“Have the gods forgiven me now?” Rollo asks, his voice still and small. Floki smiles against his skin._ _

__“They will let you live to fight another day,” he says. “Though they may wish to remind you that your body is more than a weapon. It is a temple, an altar on which you must offer yourself.” Floki kisses his shoulder and Rollo shivers. “I will help you remember,” he whispers, and Rollo’s fingers reach out to curl around his wrist._ _


End file.
